"If the gal's ekal to drivin' that horse, she's ekal to hitchin' of
him up," said the man who was cleaning the bay. "If a gal wants to
drive, let her hitch. Ye'd better let a woman go the whole figger
when she gits started, just as ye'd better give an ugly cuss of a
horse his head up hill an' down. It takes the mischief out of 'em
quicker'n anything. Let her go it, Dexter--don't ye fret."

"I don't want her breakin' any of the parson's daughter's bones with
none of my horses," said Dexter Beers, uneasily. "Wonder where the
parson is?"

"Let 'em go it! They won't git smashed up, I guess," said the other.
"I've seen that gal of Hautville's with that mare of his'n. She kin
drive most anythin' short of the devil, an' old white's got sense
enough to know when he's well driv, ugly's he is. He wa'n't on the
track for nothin'. He ain't no wuss, if he's as bad, as that roan
mare. Let 'em _go_ it!"

"Wonder what's to pay?" said the young man, who had not spoken
before.

"Dunno," said Dexter Beers. "Somethin's to pay--that girl acted
queer."

"S'pose she takes it hard 'bout Burr Gordon. He used to fool 'round
her, I've heerd, afore he went courtin' the parson's gal."

"Dunno--queer she's so thick with the parson's gal all of a sudden."